Flaw Salad

They tell you who you are. They come into your life, they have a look around, and they tell you who you are.

You, the emotive one. You, the weak. You, the wise. You, the stronger than you realize.

They know you so well after their little root around.

Hogs, that’s what.

They dig for scraps and snort their snouts and—dirty in their own filth—they squeal and squeal.

Hogs, the snortling, furrowing, wallowing lot. Hogs, disgusting. Hogs, useless.

Out, out, out with the hogs.